Dead Moon
by WhyWeFall
Summary: Scott has a new pack now, and he is stronger than he ever was alone. But the arrival of a mysterious beta brings up more mysteries than answers. Scott realizes that he faces his deadliest threat yet, and not even his Alpha status can save him. Friends and enemies must band together to fight, no matter what the repercussions. But sometimes, not even the light can save you. First FF


They were a pack, six in all. Scott McCall, the True Alpha. Derek Hale, the new beta. Cora Hale, sister of Derek, the first beta. Issac Lahey, the second beta. Ethan and Aiden, the Twins, third and fourth betas. They ran together in the dark of the forest, protected by the sentinel guardians in the dead of night. The pursuit was supposed to be short and quick, but their prey had proven to be very good at being elusive, and you could've mistaken them for a cat instead of a leaded the pack, his eyes red, his fangs bared, his claws out, his wolf mane erupt. He had smelled the prey first; he had to take it down now. He jumped off a fallen log on the forest floor and wolf-ran. He gripped the forest floor, released into the air, gripped the forest floor, released, repeat repeat repeat. The smell was lodged in his nostrils, and he was desperate to find the source and feel it with his hands, the need blinding everything else in the height of his animal awareness.  
The wind rustled through his wild hair, whooshing into his perked ears and momentarily blocked any sound. He tried to skid to a stop, then regained hearing, and did a sideways flip to change the direction of the chase; the prey was trying to shake the pack on their trail, and Scott liked to think that he could smell their fear, the salty sweat dripping from their body, the adrenaline that was going to run out sooner or later peaking in their veins and starting to recede. The truth was, Scott couldn't smell anything _but _their stench, no sweat or fear or anything  
. It was tangy and almost citrus-like, but with a smudge of earth. He guessed that meant that he was too close to give up, and he pushed harder. Scott jumped over a small oak and landed back on the ground with a _thump_. His claws were digging into the earth and sending a flurry of dirt into his face, but it didn't block his vision, so it didn't matter; the primal need to catch prey was clouding any sense of dignity he had while in Alpha form. He wanted to stop and shake his head to clear his mind once he realized that he wanted to kill his pursuit, no matter what or who they were, human or animal, the primal need to kill staining any idea of morality he liked to think he had. He wanted to dig his claws into the earth and stop at once when he started to drool.  
He knew he was an Alpha, a killing machine, but he just couldn't imagine himself as a slobbering animal killing anything that came near  
. _But that's exactly what you're doing. You're a wolf. Lose yourself in the beast.  
_The Twins had taught him that when he had trouble shifting, a week after Jessica disappeared from the distillery, a week after the insane storm that had nearly killed them all, a week after granting Ducalion a chance at redemption in the light of everything he had done; that had helped somewhat, but he still feared becoming a total monster like Peter had. _What if you _do _become a monster? What if nobody, not even Derek can help you?  
What if you become. . . _the beast?  
_"Scott!" _The voice of a friend rang from across three lifetimes, and the True Alpha was yanked back into the confusing realm of reality. He saw somebody lying in the middle of a clearing, surround by four figures dressed in black. They all bore weapons, and one of them raised a rod-shaped device. . .  
Scott _did _skid this time, is claws grasping for solidity in the soft soil of the forest and sending a wave of dirt flying behind him. He raised his head and roared a warning.  
_"Close your eyes!"  
_He expected to see his pack behind him in the dark, but saw no one, no hulking forms baring fangs, no glowing eyes, no friendly scent.  
He was alone.  
He shut his eyes tight, ignoring the confusion that threatened to leave him disorientated. He could've sworn they were _right behind _him, he could hear their movements behind him, their feet breaking branches and rustling leaves. . .or had he imagined those sounds? Had Scott, in the midst of the beast, simply conjured his pack behind him the whole time?  
There was a flash, like a camera, and the heat of white light on his back, blinding no eyes on that night. The light faded, and so did any thought, as an arrow whistled through the crisp air of a winter evening and landed into Scott's shoulder with a sickening _thunk.  
_ Scott reared back his head and roared in pain, a red-hot knot of agony embedded in his shoulder. He gripped the arrow shaft and felt another pang of hurt. He was now standing, and he stumbled around stupidly, looking and feeling the arrow stuck in his shoulder, trying to comprehend.  
He realized with a disgusting lurch of his stomach what the arrow shaft that was embedded in his shoulder was made of.  
He screamed in frustration and swiveled around to punch down the young hunter that was about to attack him. Two more came after that, one with an axe, the other with a machete. The axe was swung over the first man's shoulder, the machete swung around the second man's back; Scott took those three wasted seconds that the men would've used to strike to strike the first one with a careless swipe of his arm, knocking him down, and headbutting the second one, letting him slump to the ground, which had suddenly hardened.  
The last hunter stood in front of the lying person, blocking Scott's view. He held a broadsword. _Unconventional, _Scott noted. He had learned pretty quickly that unconventionality was a sign of individuals not to be trifled with. The man wore a neat brown beard and a nice head of brown hair. Scott imagined that head bobbing along with the current of a lake nearby, and was disgusted with himself for thinking that.  
"Listen," Scott began. He used the carefully confident tone that he used with all the hunters since becoming an Alpha. _Show him that you're not worried, maybe that will make _him_ worried,_ Scott's human side advised. Scott blocked his human voice out and let the beast become his advisor. _What he said_, it agreed.  
"I don't want any trouble. I just want them—"—Scott pointed to the form in the middle of the clearing—"—and I'll be on my way. No bloodshed, no harm done. What do you think?"  
"I think that the world has really come to pisswater if they start making teenage boys Alphas," the man replied in a surprisingly light voice. Scott had expected something gruff, but he had guessed wrong. The arrow in his shoulder still hurt, and he hoped he was doing a good job at concealing the pain. Blood dripped down the wound onto his jeans. The light of the crescent moon was filtered by the drooping fingers of the trees. The night couldn't have been stiller. "Nobody _made _me an Alpha. I made _myself _an Alpha." "Please stop. I know how much you would love to explain the worn concept of a True Alpha to me, McCall, but I think we both are mature enough to skip such a demonstration. Let's just cut the fluff, okay? Let's agree to say nothing but the bare truth and nothing else to each other. Good? Good. Now, I need this little girl here. She killed two of my men. Oh, and, by the way? I appreciate it that you didn't kill my boys over there. It adds to your character. Maybe you're not just another Ducalion after all."  
The man's blunt nature didn't faze Scott, whatever his intentions were. His eyes glared at the man all the brighter, sharp and dark red.  
"Would it be safe to say that your men were about to kill her when she killed them? That sounds a lot like this thing called _self-defense_, maybe you hunters are too busy cutting omegas in half to notice?"  
"It doesn't matter, she broke the truce, and she must be punished," the man said simply.  
"What truce?" Scott asked hesitantly.  
"You see, just allow me to formally apologize for intruding on your canine affairs. We never planned on being in Beacon Hills, of all places. She sort of led us here. Maybe she sensed a new pack was formed, or whatever you mutts do to acknowledge each other's existence. But where we're from, if you break an agreement, there is going to be a certain amount of hell to pay."  
Scott's mind raced with a thousand thoughts. _What is he talking about?_ Scott's discomfort was heightened by the periodic shock of pain from the arrow in his arm. He was pretty sure that if he was still a beta he would be dead. _There's one perk of being an Alpha, _he thought. _ Major healing factor.  
_ "Where are you from?" Scott asked warily.  
The man stared at him with a cocked head and glistening eyes.  
Scott realized that he could not smell the man.  
He stepped back, aghast. "What. . ._are _you?" The question was abrupt, unexpected to come out of his mouth.  
"Misunderstood. Just a man trying to regain some honor. Some dignity. Do you understand?"  
"I don't think I do," Scott said hoarsely. The arrow flamed worse than ever, and Scott couldn't help it to wince in pain.  
He fell to one knee as the arrow seemed to dig even deeper into his shoulder. He screamed in pain, fresh blood seeping from the wound and sprinkling on the leaves underneath him, his vision blurring. His vision shifted rapidly from normal to heat, a mess of black, grey, orange, green, and red; he was back on his feet, and the pain was unbearable, and the red agony made him want to beg for something, _anything _to get it out of him. . . something came towards him, something with no color, something that wasn't human, or animal, or anything, and Scott was horrified to see that he could smell nothing but his own blood, and he screamed for his own death as that something reared back, head in the air, massive back arched, feet dug into the ground, mouth full of fangs bared to rip his throat out—_"Scott!"_ Scott perked up at the voice, and the something did as well, and then the searing fire in his arm spread, licking his flesh and spilling his blood, and Scott screamed in agony as the world went darker.  
He could see nothing, but he could still hear. There was rustling of leaves, snapping of twigs, and then a great mess of rustling leaves and snapping twigs, and somebody was slammed to the ground, and then people started running, he could feel their vibrations in the ground, and then the deadly tune of arrows whistling through the air. There were roars, wolf-sounding roars, and some dull _thunks_, and what sounded like scratching bark. Somebody screamed, and Scott heard a voice—_"Don't kill him!"_—pleading with somebody, and then he wanted to see again, wanted to see what was going on, but somebody pushed him roughly to the ground, and he fell on the arm that wasn't plunged in the River Styx. He opened his eyes, and still could not see. He groaned in confusion as somebody's boot smashed his nose open. Blood spurted from his nose onto his face, and he felt it spatter his shirt. Scott stood up and fell to one knee.  
He concentrated all his energy on the vibrations in the ground, trying to decipher who from who. He found one vibration coming near him, heavy footed and fast. With one hand still on the ground, Scott did a half-handstand and kicked the running hunter in the face. They fell to the ground with the satisfying finality of _thud_, which Scott hoped meant _dead weight_.  
Two more came his way, and stood to meet the first one, a light footed male, with three hard punches to the stomach. That one fell out of reach, the next one came, Scott bared his fangs and jumped in the air with his feet retracted to his stomach, and drop-kicked the hinter in the face, blood splashing on his shoes.  
He fell to the ground with the incapacitated hunter, and rose to meet a new challenge, what felt like someone tall, hulking with heavy feet. He turned into their direction and ran, then flipped off a dead log to dropkick them as well. He wildly kicked out his feet in midair and felt two strong hands take them, then swing him around with extreme strength; Scott flew in the air for a few seconds before he felt the rough bark meet his back, and then the rest of his body met the tree, and then there was a great smash, and the tree had disappeared, replaced by dead air, and Scott flew for half a second more, and then he slammed into the ground.  
His head was dizzied, and he couldn't keep track of the vibrations anymore, clouded by his rapidly beating heart, and there were a thousand little shards of pain in his back, Scott could feel the blood he was rapidly losing, he coughed violently and tasted his own life in his mouth, his nose bleeding more than ever, and he realized that he was choking on his own blood, and his body ached worse than anything, and his arm had taken the fall, and there was white-hot suffering in his veins instead of the red life that was leaking out of him every second, and he was dead and he felt caked in his body and oh God is that a bone no a bone a bone is poking out of my leg oh my God I can feel it what the hell is happening come on where is Derek where is Issac where Ethan where is Aidan where is Cora where is Stiles where is anybody oh my God I can't breathe what's that noise I can't feel the vibrations anymore I can't hear anything what is that noise what is it what is it beeping I'm bleeding to death you do realize that don't you oh no what if I'm dead what if I died and now I'm dead what if I'm not on the ground what if I'm in hell is this hell what is hell why would I go to hell _everything hurts so bad_ please some just kill me I can't take it please just someone rip my throat out like Peter like Kate like like _LIKE JENNIFER  
_ Scott opened his eyes and gasped for air, and he let out a roar, not human, but Alpha, and then he could see, and then he could hear, and then he saw the frenzied eyes of a hunter as they flew over him, thrown by something, and they landed onto the ground with a sickening crunch. He crawled over the hundreds of little pieces of wood he had made, and lifted himself up, standing drunkenly in the bright dark. He looked around for a friendly face, and found all of them; Derek, Issac, Cora, Ethan and Aidan. They were looking at him. He tried to walk, but fell to the ground. The pain in his body was not as excruciating as before, but it still hurt. Issac was suddenly at his side to help him up, putting his arm through Scott's armpits and behind his back. Scott stood with a wince, and then he turned to look at the girl on the ground. "Who is she?" he asked.  
"You tell me, you're the one who smelled her," Issac said lazily.  
"Do you even know who she is?" Derek asked Scott. His eyes were blazing blue, and he had shifted back to human form.  
"No, I just. . .smelled her. It was like she, sent out a signal, like. . .she knew I was there, in the forest, and she called out to me, like a. . .call for help. I don't know who she is, but she needed help," Scott explained stupidly.  
"She must be an Omega," Aiden said. "Where's the rest of her pack?"  
"That's a possibility, but it could be that her pack is—" Ethan was interrupted by Cora.  
"—dead. They were killed by hunters," Cora said coldly. She looked at the girl on the ground, almost with a sense of longing.  
"We don't know that," Derek replied curtly.  
"But why else would she be running around the woods without a pack? Unless she's an Omega," Issac countered. "But that doesn't mean her pack was killed by hunters. Maybe she's just running from them for some reason."  
"Maybe. . ." Scott started.  
"Go on," Derek said, walking towards him.  
"What if she's from a pack. . .like Ducalion's?"  
"You mean another Alpha pack?" Issac said quietly.  
"That's not possible. I can understand one of those Cirque De Freaks running around, but _two_?" Cora said incredulously. "Seems highly unlikely."  
"No, not an Alpha pack," Scott dismissed warily. "I mean. . .what if she's running from her Alpha, like, if he's trying to kill her? What if someone's killing their own pack again?"  
"If that's the case, someone should've sent them the memo," Aidan said quickly. "The Alpha pack is no longer in operation. They're all dead. And Ethan and I are betas now."  
"They must not know if what Scott thinks is true," Ethan told Aidan. "And if that's the case, then that makes them even more dangerous."  
"Because they'd be killing for no reason," Cora realized softly. She turned to her brother.  
"How can we be sure of this, though? What Scott just said is nothing but speculation. We'll need proof."  
"You want proof?" said a weak voice.  
Scott and Issac turned to look at the girl on the ground, now standing up. She wore a leather jacket and tore jeans, with light brunette hair and green eyes. She glared at all of them in contempt.  
"Here's your proof. _My Alpha is trying to kill me._"


End file.
